


Who's Your Daddy

by pleasedontlookatme



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Daddy Kink, I'm so so sorry, Lingerie, M/M, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2030343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasedontlookatme/pseuds/pleasedontlookatme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck me, daddy.” Grif tried to push himself up again, only for be shoved right back down onto his face. “Fuck me, daddy!”</p>
<p>“Louder! I don’t think the Blues heard you yet!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's Your Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> i created an entire new account because im ashamed i wrote this

“Unacceptable! Do it again!”

Sarge sent Grif sprawled on the floor with a swift kick to the behind. The satisfying yelp fueled his power high as he forced Grif to scrub the floors. The nature of their relationship allowed him to humiliate Grif in any way possible, sexually included, but it was always more fun to watch Grif mostly-naked on his knees, scrubbing the hallways until they sparkled- and then fucking him where he could see his reflection.

“Fuck! I’ve already done it _twice_ already!” Grif grunted as Sarge stepped on his back, smacking him down against the freshly scrubbed floor. “When are you going to stop playing around with me?”

“When the floor is clean! Get to work, you useless sack of sludge!” Of course, just because it was all a part of their sexual game it didn’t mean Sarge wouldn’t milk it to get chores done.

Sarge nudged his foot between Grif’s legs, prodding him through the ill-fitting lacy panties. “Get to work, Private!”

“I’m a _sergeant_ -”

“Not anymore you’re not! We had you demoted, remember?”

“If you’re going to pretend like you actually demoted me then at least use the entire shitty title,” Grif huffed over his shoulder, only to be kicked down onto the wet floor again.

“That’s no way to speak to your commanding officer, Private.” Sarge circled around Grif until he crouched down in front of him, shotgun pressing under Grif’s chubby chin. “Anything to say to that, Private Grif?”

“Yeah: fuck you.” Despite his brazen words Grif eyed the shotgun, and Sarge’s twitching finger next to the trigger.

“Not until you say the magic words, _Private_.” Sarge turned the shotgun to push Grif’s chin up as he rose to his feet. He stomped his muddy boot in front of Grif, spraying mud in a perfect boot print. “I can’t see my face in it yet."

“I never know what the magic words are! You always change it! Would you just fuck me already?”

“Say it again, louder, Private.”

“Fuck me!”

“Louder!”

“Fuck me! Fuck me for fuck’s sake, fuck me in the ass!”

“You’re missing a key word there, Private.” The look of pure frustration and humiliation on Grif’s face was something to savor- not that he wasn’t savoring it. Sarge had already snapped several pictures of that face with his helmet.

“Fuck me, _Sir_.”

“No, no, the other key word.” Sarge tapped Grif on the head with his shotgun. A little prompting never bothered him. “Come on, who’s your daddy?”

“Fuck me, _daddy_.” Grif grit his teeth, renewed embarrassment floundering in his gut. He sat up on his knees, only for Sarge to kick him back down.

“Stay down, boy! Who told you you could get up?” Sarge popped the opening to his armor. He was still grateful they hadn’t fixed the filtration system, and still had the front opening for male models- it would make fucking Grif a lot less fun if he actually had to take his armor off.

“God did, when he told me to murder you in your sleep tonight.”

“And?”

“When he told me to murder you in your sleep, _daddy_.”

“That’s more like it! I knew you could follow directions if you tried, boy.” Sarge stroked up his exposed shaft, stepping his boot onto Grif’s back. He had the chubby man’s face into the boot print he had planted on the newly washed floor, breathing hard against the tile. “Say it again, boy.”

“Fuck me, daddy.” Grif tried to push himself up again, only for be shoved right back down onto his face. “Fuck me, daddy!”

“Louder! I don’t think the Blues heard you yet!”

“Suck it, Blues,” Grif muttered under his breath, grunting as Sarge put more pressure on his back. “Fuck me, daddy!”

“Do you like daddy more than twinkies, boy?”

“Hell no, I’d take a pack of twinkies over this anyday.” Grif grunted as he was smacked with the butt end of Sarge’s shotgun. He sighed and said in the most dry, deadpan voice he had, “Yes. Of course. Daddy is better than anything in the world.”

“Good! Now say it loud enough for Donut’s mama to hear you!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake will you just fuck me already?”

“Alright, alright. But at least scream loud enough for the Blues to hear.” Grif swore Sarge’s last words on earth would be a curse against Blue team. The guy got his rocks off to some weird shit- forcing Grif to clean the mess hall in lacy lingerie being one of them.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were stalling,” Grif grunted, trying to sit up again, only for Sarge to kick him back down. “Again, with the kicking!”

“Ass up, buttercup! Daddy’s got an itch, and you’re the backscratcher!” Sarge dropped his shotgun and finally dropped to his knees behind Grif, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him back. He pulled the panties to the side, rubbing his shaft between Grif’s cheeks.

“That makes absolutely no sense. Is the itch on your dick or your back? Because if it’s on your dick then make sure you get your dick out of me, right now.”

“You talkin’ back to daddy, boy?”

Grif sighed, letting his head fall onto the floor. “No, daddy, I’m not talking back.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear!”

That said, Sarge took the moment of distraction to slide into Grif with a groan, hands gripping the soldier by his fleshy hips. “That’s what daddy likes, just like that.” He gripped Grif’s ass with his gloved hand, leaving a harsh handprint in his tan skin.

“Fuck, daddy-” Grif slapped a hand over his mouth, moaning as he realized what he said. There was no way he was playing into Sarge’s sick fantasy. “Shit!” He slapped his other hand over his mouth as Sarge fucked him with the power of a bulldozer.

“What was that, boy? You got something to say?” Sarge grunted, smacking Grif’s ass just to watch it wobble. “You’re going to have to speak up.”

“I said fuck me, daddy!” Grif pushed back on Sarge’s thrusts, clenching his jaw. “Make me scream so loud Donut’s mama hears me!”

“If you want it then squeal! Squeal, boy, like when you eat all those twinkies!”

“Okay, seriously, dude, ruining the mood.”

“Fine. What about praising daddy for being so much better than twinkies?"

Grif groaned, going limp on the floor. There was no way this was going to get even remotely better.

Up on top of the base Simmons and Donut were looking out over the canyon. Simmons sighed and stared down at his feet, hearing the rumbling and the screaming from downstairs.

“What’s up, Simmons?”

“Do you think they’re done having weird sex, yet?”

“No, no, you have to wait until you hear the shotgun, because that’s when Sarge is _really_ done.”

“...God dammit, Donut.”

 


End file.
